I am piling shredded Christmas paper on the curb when my cell rings. We are no longer lovers; and yet you call - as always. predictable as January snows whispering of ennui and Boxing week sales. Your voice enticing me to come. 'It'll be fun', broken words garbled promise over hands-free bluetooth when your car glides to my curb silent electric full stop. Who am I to argue with faux leather heated seats and your presumption that I would acquiesce – as always. You take me to 'The Bay' seeking new linens. Leave me lingering between terrycloth towels and flannel sheets. Make me watch as you fondle, finger, and caress Egyptian cotton in floral patterns summoning memories of fertile fields wrapped in summer heat. My arms burdened beneath fresh virgin bedroom sheets, you take me to the check-out counter - 'All Sales Final.' Then whisk me back to my curb just as the garbage truck rumbles slowly past As always.
beneath fractal snow falls
There are no patterns
in these drifting swirls
piling high around my feet
I am not a primary number
or elsewise otherwise defined
I am the remains
of an unclaimed archaeology
lost in primordial forests
Here amongst innumerable trees
branches reach toward infinity
waving at the sole hidden sun
Sedentary sedimentary erratics
scattered over eskers and drumlins
deep in isolated thought
Here too remain I reclined
amongst boulders bigger than I.
Out of the wind finding a second breath.
boldly kicked the old year out
new year has arrived
and yet still somehow I think
nothing seems to change
I am convinced this remains
Growing up on the farm.
Black and white TV telling me stories via rabbit ears.
I was certain that I could be the next Tarzan of the Jungle.
The snowy screen showing me dreams I’d never create on my own.
Eventually I realized my many gaps
How my grasp of Great Ape grammar was lacking
and my basic Chimpanzee was none existent.
Still I did try to master vine swinging;
and tree-top jumping
while summoning elephants to my aid.
The elephants never came.
The ground turned out to be quite unforgiving.
Still not all was lost!
My climbing became quite excellent!
I learned how to shimmy up drain pipes to rooftops;
Discovered how to corner climb walls.
Then I discovered freedom and the ability
to sneak out my second story window in the old farmhouse;
Catwalk in the darkness to sit 50 feet above that unforgiving ground;
Above the branches;
On the peak of the roof.
There I watched the stars circling;
Shooting stars dispensing wishes.
And saw how the planets kept track of cosmic time.
I decided I wanted to be reach beyond the broadcast jungle
and become the new Carl Sagan…
I never quite made it as Carl.
In the end my dream of Tarzan
took me above and beyond the treetops.
Fragile in your solitude
in your contemplation
by the window
we first met scrambling
eggs for breakfast
you in a borrowed shirt
uncertain of where
you precisely were
in this moment…
I made you orange juice
trying not to notice
the undone buttons
perked coffee in hand
as we talked about
the weather ahead
while your gentleman
Your shy smile making me wish
I had met you yesterday.